Warhammer 40,000 Awakening
by Redshiftja
Summary: Long ago, the God-Emperor of Mankind sacrificed himself to protect Man from the influence of scheming, Dark Gods. Interred within Golden Throne, He teeters upon the edge of life and death as his soul guides Mankind through the perils of the Warp. But if the Emperor were to truly die, the Empire he sacrificed himself to preserve would most certainly collapse ..
1. 0

In the bleak, shadowy future of the 41st Millennium - **there is only war.**

Mankind, under their unifying faith in the** God Emperor**, who, long ago, sacrificed **Himself **for the preservation of Man, is beset by the perils of a galaxy at war. The Emperor, immobile, inanimate and interred within the Golden Throne, burns a beacon of light through the empyrean sea, guiding** His** mighty Imperial war hosts through the Warp - the only route through the stars - via the daily sacrifice of a thousand souls.

The forces of man, the men and women of the Imperial Guard and the Inquisition, and the faithful servants of the Adeptus Astartes and Adeptus Mechanicus - to name a few, constitute** His **inexhaustible armies in their eternal march against the malevolent forces of cunning, powerful Xenos, mutant hordes, traitors and Warp-spawn that threaten the Imperium of Man.

Though with their mighty war machine and enduring faith, Mankind is little more than a torch light in the distance against the looming shadows of infinite evil.

To be a Human in this dark millennium is to be one of countless billions. It is to survive in a savage, unforgiving galaxy under the regime of a fascist, totalitarian state that will not hesitate to put entire planets, even entire star systems to the flame.

Cast away your pleas for mercy and protection, for they are fruitless and unimportant. Cast away your hope for progress and understanding, for these have been forgotten long ago. Cast away your faith in the **God-Emperor**, and forever be damned to an eternity of endless suffering.

In the disparity and carnage of the 41st Millennium, there can never be peace, only an existence shadowed by the schemes of dark unholy Gods and tales of monstrous genocide - for in the grim darkness of the far future, **there is only war.**


	2. I

**I**

**M37**

**Calixus Sector**

**Segmentum Obscurus**

The sun glowed an ominous white, diminished by an insidious eclipse that bathed the scorched battlefields in perpetual twilight. Raped and scourged, the planet's once verdant green forests and lively plains were nothing but a cratered, burning desert.

Blood painted the landscape a dark coagulated red, having seeped deep into the earth after weeks of constant warfare. Overturned transports, burned out tanks, and mounds of rotting, mutilated corpses lay scattered across the plains. There was not a single spot of land that did not bear some scar from the unadulterated belligerence.

Rivers of blood poured endlessly across the killing fields from the corpses of hundreds of thousands of dead. The great, burning skeletons of Titan war machines hung low below the horizon, spewing great clouds of smoke and gases that continued to burn long after their fall like somber effigies in a shallow graveyard. Tattered Imperial banners lay strewn about the battlefield, some burnt to ash, others still flapping morbidly in the noxious wind.

Labyrinthian trenches stretched across kilometers of battlefield, where the murder of untold thousands of Krieg guardsman lay slaughtered in flowing pools of blood. Many perished where they stood, dying amongst each other in a mass burial ground beneath the trenches.

The once gleaming forms of astartes, caked with mud and gore where they had stood shoulder to shoulder with their allies, now shared the same burial plots as their Death Korps allies. Many were still alive, struggling for lost bolters only to be executed by the traitorous Legionaires that wandered the smoking battlefield.

Within the ruined piles of flesh, bone and armor, were the exquisite, yet bloodied corpses of Eldar who had died alongside their desperate allies. Where there were mountains of Imperial dead, hills of Craftworld Eldar rolled across the charred battlefield.

It was a battle with a conclusion that had been decided from the very beginning. Millions were to die, and untold billions were to follow. Whispers from the Warp and even the coming of several Phoenix Lords were not enough for the Imperium of Man to heed a millennium old warning.

Even as the dying prayers of the Imperial Creed filled the air for the last time before the wind was cut from their chests, the warriors of the Imperium were too late to realize that the Emperor's light would not be able to reach them in time as the forces of Chaos descended upon the planet in droves.

Far off in the distance, far from the destroyed battlements and coagulated rivers, the war still raged on as the planet's defenders staged a futile last stand. The remainder of the Death Korps of Krieg that had made planet fall now held against hundreds of thousands of traitor warriors in an unending tide of death that wittled away their numbers with every second that passed. Beyond the trenches fought Ebon Purgators' 5th Company, nearly annihilated by the onslaught and reduced to a handful of squads.

The humans knew they were going to die. The bolter and las-fire that streamed across the trenches into the traitorous ranks of Chaos only bought the Eldar the time to finish what their ancient brethren had began long ago, before the Fall. Even then, their greatest enemy had been Chaos, and now - that enemy threatened the very future of their people's existence.

But hand in hand, the fates intertwined, and the runes of the Mon'keigh gleamed between the fingers of an Eldar Farseer as she scryed far into the future. Surrounded by her Warlock retinue, she spared a painful glance to the battlefield not far from where she stood. A tear streamed down her face, mingling with dried blood and patches of mud, turning black as they dripped down her cheek.

Death was their fate, as it was for all of the forces of Order that remained upon this forsaken planet. With an abrupt flash of light, the scrying ritual came to its conclusion, and the runes of her brethren - all of the Eldar runes that had graced her palms seconds ago - now fell away from her fingertips to the ashen dirt. Only the runes of the Mon'keigh remained. Her Warlocks clustered around her, their faces drawn with confusion, staring at the final runes that hovered above her palms.

She began to realize that the situation was far more grim than she had initially thought. Farseer

Kylandra's jaw slowly dropped and her eyes widened, staring at the glowing runes. Mankind must be saved, lest they all fall to the darkness that threatens to consume us all.

The Farseer looked down to her feet and grimaced at the sight of the Chaos artifact. Its cursed, impossible geometry pained her eyes and burned images of great evil into her retinas. Sighing languidly, she forced her gaze away.

It was a vile, warp spawned artifact given form by the rampant evils of Chaos. She felt it tremor at her finger tips; a silent, yet somewhat disturbing humming emanated from the relic. Winds of linds caressed her ears with decadent thoughts, sincere promises, and whispers that beckoned her to unleash the darkness within. It stained her very soul with its grimy touch. And every second that passed, was a second spent enduring its dark whispers. Lying within its shimmering, violet shell was a power with the magnitude to extinguish a victim's soul from the face of the universe. Any being, living or unliving, was nothing but leaves in an unrelenting torrential wind in the face of such power.

The Ebon Purgators' 5th Company Captain, Danarius Astrius stood before her, back turned as he faced the carnage beyond the battlements. His expression was a mixture of horror and disgust; he too could feel the warp spawned relic's whispers slither into his skull while observing the battlefield from afar. But his conscience was pure and burned with a hatred that seared the tendrils of influence that crept into his mind.

Clad in a set of ancient ebon black Mark III Iron power armor that glowed with golden details, his figure was more than twice the Farseer's size. Had he not been forced to ally with the Xeno, he looked as though he could break the Eldar in half over his kneecap. Danarius dared not meet eyes, for he was ashamed at having to resort to such an alliance.

"Progress?" His voice was barely audible over the horrifying screams and weapons fire that drowned out all possible noise.

Kylandra's ear twitched, and she reached out to the Astartes with her mind.

The relic cannot be broken -

Danarius snapped, "Tell me what we can do, Witch!"

The Eldar cringed; every death echoed the victim's final thoughts. They rang incessantly through her skull like sirens howling into the night. The line was breaking.

"Farseer!"

Nothing.

The silence between the two was presided by a shower of dust and debris as an artillery shell landed a few meters away from them. Several Dire Avengers scrambled away from the crater, clutching shrapnel wounds.

"Nothing? We are to do nothing?" the astartes was outraged by the thought. His grip tightened around the hilt of the power sword that hung from his waist. He wanted nothing more than to cut down the Xenos Witch where she stood and have at the relic with any way he saw fit.

It could not be allowed to exist any longer. If it required that he sacrifice his own soul to destroy it, he would gladly do so. Either way, he thought, he would lay down his life for the Emperor this day. The Captain's face contorted into a glaring scowl that made the Farseer wince.

My retinue, in all its power, cannot even scratch the device.

Her body was weary from concentration after focusing her psychic power into the device in several attempts at disabling it. Even the combined might of her Warlocks was not enough to even crack, let alone scratch at the evil within.

Ten thousand lives had already been lost trying to stop the forces of Chaos from claiming the relic for their own. For what reason, the Ebon Purgator Captain did not know, nor wanted to know. All he knew now was that the fall of their pathetic bastion was at hand. Soon, they would be overwhelmed under the tide of heretics that streamed across the battlefield. He roared and stepped forth, grabbing the Eldar by the collar, and wrenching her from her feet to face the him eye to eye. The sound of her Warlock bodyguards drawing their weapons stopped him from man handling the witch further.

"Then are we to just lay down our lives and relinquish the relic to the enemy?" He asked gruffly, glaring into her glimmering alien eyes.

She remained silent, her face close enough to his so that he could feel her strained, almost frantic breathing upon his own. Yet her lips nor her eyes showed even the slightest amount of fear. Not for the Chaos warriors beyond the trenches, and certainly not for the astartes.

"Unhand her, you filthy mon'kiegh!" one of the war seers said, brandishing a glowing witchblade.

I understand your agitation. She began, her thoughts plucking at his mind's strings. Her thoughts soothed him, and he felt his grip loosen. But you too must understand that we have lost as much to this war as your kin. I fear that this day will end within a pool of our blood. Eldar blood. Human blood. It will mingle and course through the soil in streaming rivers.

"We have already lost, Eldar! Why can you not tell me something I do not already know?"

Kylandra's brow contorted in anger, and her eyes glimmered psychic wrath.

What am I to do? Confess that we are defeated?

"Are we not?"

Again, they were showered in a storm of dust and debris. A cloud of blood fell upon them, dotting their armor with splotches of scarlet. Of which army's blood it belonged to Kylandra did not know.

She slowly clenched a hand around his gauntlet. The Farseer's hand could not have even wrapped around his entire wrist, and yet, the astartes understood the gesture.

No. The battle is not yet lost..

His grip slackened, and he let the Farseer go. He sighed.

"What must we do?"

Kylandra closed her eyes for a moment, blinking away burning tears. She spoke audibly, her voice shaking.

"Buy us some more time, and I promise you ... it will be ... dealt with." She reached out with an open palm. Danarius knew that Eldar expressed and even spoke through their gesticulate body movements.

Danarius looked into her face and saw the resolute honesty in her alien eyes. Staring past her exotic pupils, she no longer seemed so alien. Behind those eyes was a mind capable of great compassion and honor; Danarius recognized these as traits that even the most lowly of humans could possess.

The Astartes Captain considered for a moment. His eyes glanced ponderously to her open palm; she held her hand out to him .. such an alien gesture, extended to a non Eldar such as himself - Danarius knew the Witch had to be sincere. While she looked at him with her weary, yet tenacious gaze ... Danarius could have believed she was almost Human. He feverishly grazed his palm against her small hand, holding her languid stare.

"It will be done."

She nodded thankfully, and without another word, returned to convene with her council of Warlocks. Danarius tightened his jaw and observed the falling battle line. His warriors - his battle brothers - were dying. His Human brethren were being massacred in unmarked graves.

Danarius closed his eyes and fell to a knee, bowing his head in the light of the twilight eclipse.

"God-Emperor, we, your loyal servants, ask that you grant us the strength to drive back this darkness." He whispered, his voice enduring and tinged with the undying faith of Mankind. The sounds of battle were all but lost to him, fading away as a divine chorus from the heavens above filled his ears. "Lo, though the times are dark, my faith still shines."

No more running. No more last stands. Today, though it will be his last, he will show the traitors the true might of the Imperium of Man. Danarius stood erect above the trenches, towering over his brothers in arms - Space Marines and Guardsmen alike - and drew his power sword.

He pumped the weapon into the sky, and shouted into the masses.

"Comrades! Do not lose faith - the Emperor is with us! Let us drive these heretics back and redeem our fallen brothers in arms with sword and fire!" Danarius cried out to his comrades, his voice booming over the destruction that laid waste at the front. "Though the times are dark, our faith still shines! Shine brothers, shine through this darkness! Burn them away with our faith!"

The heads of thousands of Guardsman and a hundred Space Marines all turned to the skies as they roared into the heavens.

"Pro Gloria Imperator! Long live the Emperor!"

"For the Emperor!" They echoed in unison.

Less than a hundred Ebon Purgators remained - but their spirits rose as their Captain joined the fight once more. The rallying battle cry sparked fear into the hearts of the cowards and traitors that had, only seconds earlier, began to overwhelm the remaining Imperial forces. They backpedaled away from the ascending spirits of a thousand Imperial soldiers who rose against them from the trenches. Danarius, with battle brothers flanking both his sides, charged into the heart of darkness.

A thousand heretics surrounded him, but two thousand and more fell to the edge of their blades. Like a blazing wall of flame, his astartes decimated the enemy ranks, blasting them away with bolter fire, igniting them with promethium and them cutting them down with swords when their magazines clicked empty. With the divine strength of the Emperor singing in their hearts, they sliced through the enemy lines, scattering their limbs to the ashen dirt in droves.

To his left, one of his battle brothers exploded, a heretic's meltagun smoking. Danarius roared, stitching the heretic with a burst of bolter fire that blew him apart and mangled his corpse before it tumbled to the dust. He watched his battle brothers die around him - but when one Space Marine fell, hundreds of heretics fell with him. Soon, the battlefield ran red with rivers of blood once more, and Danarius was ankle deep in the frothy life blood of his enemies. Decapitating a heretic in a single blow, Danarius caught sight of vile Chaos Legionnaires as the corpse fell to his feet. He growled, and roared a seething curse at the traitors as they raised their bolters to fire.

The Black Legionnaires might have been mistook for members of the Ebon Purgators with their black and gold color scheme - but their corrupted, blasphemous war gear denoted them as loyal servants of Chaos. Their horned helmets and wickedly shaped pauldrons were a foul mockery of the Space Marines' sacred power armor. His lips parting with disgust, he launched himself at a trio of legionnaires, gutting the first with his sword, disemboweling him and splattering his organs into the dirt. He crashed his helmet into the other's, knocking the corrupted Marine off his feet before decapitating the other with a single flourish. With a spiteful roar, he brought his boot down onto the fallen marine's throat, killing him instantly. His skull crunched and caved in, painting his leg red with his blood.

His battle brothers pushed further away from the trenches, fighting the forces of Chaos toe to toe. They followed him into the carnage, and hundreds of heretics and dozens of legionnaires fell to the might of the Imperial martyrs. A breeze blew across the killing fields, and the bitter, cringing stench of discharged excrements and the bodily fluids wafted around them.

In the midst of the righteous slaughter, the grating sound of nails dragging across chalkboard tore through his eardrums as a Champion of Chaos climbed over the leg of a fallen titan, radiating with pure evil and boiling Danarius's blood. The wretched traitor, like all of its kind whose devout blasphemies allowed them to become the foul monstrosities they are, was horribly mutated and altered by its patron Dark God in such a way that even it was stronger and faster than even some of the most skilled astartes. A trio of Assault Marines soared downwards to the Champion on wings of fire, brandishing their lightning claws and chainswords.

Without a second to lose, the Champion, like the autonomous killing machines of the Age of Strife, stood against the Assault Marines without fear or hesitation, gutting the first in his descent. The Champion tossed aside its fresh kill and beckoned the two remaining Marines to dare fight it. Danarius rushed to their aid, and ordered them away from the creature. Nodding at the Captain, the warriors jump packed away, soaring back into the skies to strafe the traitor legion.

"You will pay for your treachery!" Danarius cried, arcing his bolter fire towards the creature. It dodged the explosive bolts and advanced quickly, its speed almost faster than his augmented eyes could see. But Danarius was faster.

He ducked under the Champions sweeping strike and thrust his blade under its guard. It cackled, swatting away his attack with an armored fist. Danarius dived away from him, narrowly evading its furious reprise. The blades cut through the dirt, leaving molten gashes where they struck. The Ebon Purgators' Captain lunged forward, willing his blade to lay waste to the creature's sinister existence.

The blade's humming power field generator whined, slicing clean through the Champion's breastplate in a burst of molten ceramite and black vitae. It cried out with an inhuman shriek, the blade's molecule cleaving energy field laying waste to its rancid flesh. But all the wound did was anger the beast.

Its eyes rolled into the back of its head, possessed by an invisible, yet dark influence. It snarled with bestial vigor, baring its teeth and charging him like an enraged animal. Its attacks grew faster with every slash he parried, and soon, Danarius began to struggle to keep up his guard.

Consumed entirely by the power of the Dark Gods, the Champion smashed aside the Captain's power sword and impaled him with its off hand sickle. Danarius cried out as searing hot pain sent wailing pain through every nerve ending in his body. The attack carried him from his feet; he felt the Champion twist the weapon's hilt before wrenching the Captain from the blade with a savage kick. Blood gushed out from the hole in a terse splash of blood as his body sent Larraman's cells through his blood stream to clot the vicious wound.

He stumbled backwards and fell, his power sword falling to the ground. The wound would not kill him, but it pained him to stand. The Champion stomped his chest in, pinning him to the ground. A sliver of blood streamed through his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes glaring up at the abomination of flesh and ceramite. A squad of Chaos Marines flanked the beast, sending bolter fire into the ranks of his own astartes.

"Blood for the Blood God!" It rose one of its sickle blades to finish him off.

But the hand clutching the weapon sailed off its wrist in a wretched splash of black blood. It howled, stumbling away from the Purgators' Captain. Movement blurred past Danarius's peripherals as the fiery red mane of a Howling Banshee Exarch launched the Champion off his feet with a high kick to the jaw. It fell and landed in a muddy heap nearly a meter away. Chaos Marines, gawking at the sight of their Champion's sudden fall, advanced towards her, combat knives unsheathed. She reared her helmet to face them, and released a piercing psychosonic shriek that stunned the traitors and dazed the astartes Captain.

With an acrobatic flip, the Eldar cleaved the two Chaos Marines in neat halves with a twirl of her glistening Executioner blade. Danarius pulled himself to his feet, and immediately saw the blurred silhouettes of a squad of Howling Banshee's as they raced passed him, and into the enemy ranks. The Exarch turned and kicked Danarius's power sword, sweeping it off the ground and into the air to land in his open hand. He clenched the weapon tightly in his fist, meeting the Exarch's brief stare, before she returned to the fray as quickly as she had entered.

His battle brothers rallied behind him, one of his Sergeants thumping a gauntlet against his pauldron.

"About time they joined the fray!" he grunted.

Danarius nodded, and, with four tactical squads, four pairs of Assault and Devastator marines and dozens of Eldar aspect warriors, launched themselves at the enemy once more like a wave crashing against a sea shore. The Chaos Champion rose to its feet, its wrist bloodied and mangled. Its other hand clutched its sickle blade, waving furiously, and with reckless abandon, attacked the Captain in a fit of bloody rage.

Its silhouette blurred as it thrust the blade under Danarius's guard. He spun away from the attack and parried a glancing blow that would have decapitated him. It struck with renewed animosity, its single blade cutting a swath through the air between Danarius's power blade; he parried them one by one, grunting with each downward strike.

In the midst of their duel, a trio of Chaos Marines saw the opportunity, and like the traitorous scum they were, joined their Champion in the fight against the single astartes Captain.

"Cowards! All of you!" Danarius hissed, as he swung his power sword to block several of their attacks at once. It merely laughed as the Legionnaires surrounded the Purgator, each chanting unholy curses as they took their turns stabbing and slashing forth. More and more Legionnaires joined the fight, forcing the Captain against nearly a dozen of the vile traitors.

They came at him in small groups, and the Captain slashed at them spitefully. He felt as one of their blades pierced his flesh, and another flash at his waist. Danarius cried out and spun his power blade around him, dismembering those close enough to him and forcing the others back. They circled him spitting unholy curses that offended the Emperor's name.

One of the Legionnaires kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Taking a step back, he looked around him to find himself surrounded on every side by a dozen Legionnaires and their foul Champion.

"Pathetic, even with the strength of your Dark Gods it still requires thirteen of you whelps to fight me." He said, ridiculing them as he raised his power blade in battle stance. The Legionnaries closed in, laughing maniacally. Danarius narrowed his eyes and saw something move under their shadows. The Marine that had kicked him broke the circle and advanced - but without warning, a whirring chainsword punched through his breast plate. He let out a gurgling cry, his screaming drowned out by the sound of ceramite being ground to dust and flesh being ripped away by the biting chains of the Eldar chainsword.

The Legionnaires cried out and died around him, ambushed by Striking Scorpions. They were slaughtered by the methodical Eldar aspect warriors, before several of Danarius's battle brothers rushed to his aid, tackling the remaining Legionnaires aside and clashing blade against blade. In the midst of the carnage, the Champion snarled, throttling an aspect warrior and tossing him aside. Danarius shouted a glorious battle cry, and went on the attack, his power sword screaming towards the traitor.

It rose its sickle blade to parry the strike, but Danarius feinted, spinning around his parry and thrust his power sword through the Champion's heart. The Champion's eyes widened in shock, dropping its remaining blade to the dust at his feet; Danarius forced the wretched traitor to its knees and drove the power blade deeper through its chest until the edge stabbed through its power pack, twisting it before wrenching the blade from the dying Champion's chest. Without sparing a single merciful moment to give the Champion the time to look into his face plate, he separated the Legionnaire's head clean from its shoulders with an effortless flourish.

It sailed across the battlefield and into the enemy ranks. They howled in terror, broken by the sight of their Champion's demise. The Purgators' Captain let the Champion's corpse crumble to a bloody heap at his feet and roared triumphantly into the sky as the resounding explosions of a glorious barrage of Imperial artillery slaughtered his enemies from the trenches

The Guardsmen who remained behind the trenches saw Danarius's kill, and thrust their las-rifles into the sky, glorifying the Captain's deed. They pulled themselves from the trenches and marched through the river of blood to meet the enemy.

Far from the battlefront, Farseer Kylandra poured her mind's energy into the relic, her warlock's pooling their wills to feed hers. Encircling the relic, witchblades drawn and poised at the unholy artifact, they unleashed streams of pure psychic energy that crackled and enveloped the device's surface. Kylandra moaned, her strength was leaving her. Her vision was blurring as though she were in constant movement, her peripherals losing sight of all her Warlocks as she focused deeply into the artifact at her feet.

Her hands hovered over the Warp spawned device, burning away its surface with her potent mind. Kylandra's eyes seethed with fiery blue light, smouldering from under her eyelids to bleed out into the air in lashes of arcing electricity. Her warlocks groaned, and bucked forward, flaring under the immense psychic assault.

One of them, his eyes radiating with psychic energy, howled, opening his jaw and crying out into the sky. Streams of light shot brightly from his open mouth and eyes - and for a split second, he glowed as bright as a sun before winking out like a star gone supernova.

The light went dark and he fell to his knees and slumped to the ground, dead.

Danarius turned towards the trenches as the twilit battlefield suddenly glowed with blinding radiance like a flicking candle. Far behind him, he saw a roiling conflagration of energy boiling behind the Guardsmen; his auto-senses dimmed to protect his eyes from the searing white light as the battlefield became illuminated once more with another psychic pulse. And another. And another.

The coruscating inferno of psychic energy boiled behind the trenches blazed effulgently, turning the twilight sky to day with every flickering sunburst. In the darkness, a brilliant spark of light revealed something massive in the distance. Danarius gasped quietly at what he saw - its towering silhouette became visible for a split second under the flickering illumination. Its horns and great bat wings sent shivers down his spine as he realized the end was nearer than he had thought. Another nova of psychic energy lit the battlefield once more, and the towering monstrosity spread its wings and launched itself into the sky, its trailing black form sailing through the night above the warriors of Order.

It landed meters away from him, crushing Eldar Aspect warriors under its blackened hooves. Its wings flapped around it, sweeping hundreds of warriors off their feet like puny rag dolls with buffeting hurricane winds. The Khornate Bloodthirster rose to its full height - towering over the battlefield upon 10 metres of rippling red muscle and ancient, ornamented daemon armor.

The daemon lifted its head to the sky and howled a deafening roar that echoed across the entire planet.

"I...AM...DEATH..IN...CARNATE!"

Blown away into the wreckage of burnt out Baneblade, Danarius pushed past the debris and found himself standing directly in the daemons path. Dozens of Guardsmen scampered away from the daemon, pushing past the stunned astartes, fleeing from the nightmarish beast.

"By the Emperor ..." he muttered, staring helplessly at the gargantuan abomination.

The sound of his brothers rising from their feet woke him from his trance like state. A squad of Assault Marines and their Sergeant came towards him.

"Remember the Catechism of Hatred." Danarius whispered to his brothers, as the eclipse that hung above the horizon turned a blood red. Daemons of Khorne, innumerable and spawned for the sole purpose to destroy marched beneath the great Bloodthirster, howling into the night.

They pumped their daemon blades in unison, thumping their clawed hands across their chests at the army of Humans, Eldar and Space Marines. Imperial Guardsmen stumbled away from the daemons in fear, broken by the sight of the nightmarish warpspawn.

"Blood for the Blood God!"

"Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

Their chants echoed through Danarius's mind as an Assault Marine Sergeant handed him a Thunder Hammer. Danarius sheathed his power sword and slung his bolt pistol, gripping the handle of the weapon. Its hammer head seethed with holy energy, glowing with wisps of the Emperor's divine might.

"To me, brothers!" He shouted as the remainder of the 5th Company lined up on either side of him in the valley of death. Devastators, Assault Marines, and dozens of Tactical Marines formed up around the Captain. Danarius saw his astartes draw their melee weapons. They looked at him wearily; despite their augmentations, even Space Marines had their limits. They were tired, worn to the bone from weeks of warfare against an enemy that would not simply die. With every servant of the Dark Gods that fell, twenty more took its place. He turned his back to the daemon horde to face them all. "Fear not death, brothers! For we are the Angels of Death - Astartes - servants of the God Emperor - and we will never surrender!"

The Space Marines echoed their Captain, thrusting their weapons into the sky.

"For the Emperor!"

Behind him, Eldar Aspect Warriors limped toward the line of Space Marines. Many were bloodied with the vitae of the enemy's, their kin's, or their own. The Banshee Exarch that had saved his life earlier walked up to the Ebon Purgators' Captain, using her Executioner blade as a pillar on which to lean on.

"Our blades are yours, Mon-keigh." She declared to him.

Danarius removed his helmet; sweat dripped down his face and from his short, matted brown hair. He inhaled a long breath and stared through the Eldar's helmet. The three service studs above his brow glistened in the light of Kylandra's psychic illuminations.

"Thank you, Eldar."

She removed her faceplate, and nodded weakly at the Space Marine. Ankle deep in dark red mud and worn from the savagery of warfare, he and the Eldar seemed disturbingly alike. Both would die this day, and both would lead their brethren against a common, neigh invincible enemy. Danarius pictured those fiery, determined eyes in the faces of the many battle brothers he had known in the service of Mankind. Each had died, fighting gloriously for the survival of their species - and she too, the nameless Exarch before him would perish in glorious combat for the same reason.

Danarius nodded, turning to face the Daemon horde.

"It was an honor serving with you, lord." He heard one of the Assault Marines say. Danarius recognized the voice without even turning to look at him.

"This is not the end, brother. We will meet again at the Emperor's right hand." Dark clouds formed above the valley of death, and droplets of clear rain began to fall from the sky.

The Captain tightened his grip around his glowing warhammer, and prayed silently. With his eyes closed, he felt something small bump into his pauldron. He looked down and saw a Guardsman at his side, his uniform in tatters and his armor scored with last-fire; the lone soldier removed his helmet and nodded at him, his eyes flickering with the same tenacity he saw in the Exarch's.

"By the Emperor, I will see this through." He heard the Guardsman say. Danarius put a hand on his shoulder, nodding at the young soldier's bravery.

Behind him, Danarius saw more and more Guardsmen filing behind his astartes, bayonets affixed, and ready for whatever end the daemons had in store for them. Danarius felt his eyes moisten at the sight; he grasped his Thunder Hammer in both gauntlets and held it high above his head, turning once more to face his comrades.

Danarius made sure his eyes met with each and every single soul on the battlefield. "Let us show them the combined might of the Imperium and her allies!" He pumped the Thunder Hammer into the sky, and the warriors cheered in unison. Danarius lowered his helmet over his skull and faced the enemy, staring bolter fire into the gaping maw of the Khornate Bloodthirster.

Hatred for the heretic, hatred for the unclean - his blood boiled with the wrath of the Emperor, and he thumped his fist across his chest and roared, "To Glory!"

"For the Emperor!"

"For the Craftworld!"

The warriors charged across the battlefield - the Space Marines leading the advance with the Eldar spilling outward around their flanks. High above them, a squad of Assault Marines soared on wings of fire, plasma pistols flaring and frag grenades falling into the hordes. Guardsmen howled battle cries into the night, powering through the mud under the great, watery deluge.

A squad of Eldar Swooping Hawks joined them, and like a flock of predatory birds, the flying astartes and Eldar circled around the unholy legion, picking them off with plasma and shuriken. Explosions peppered the earth as the soaring warriors strafed the daemons with high explosive grenades.

Each detonation rattled his bones and only pushed the Captain further to meet the enemy; he could not let his airborne allies take all the glory. Rainwater sloshed past Danarius's feet and poured down his plating, cleaning off the blood and mud that had caked his power armor. His Mark III Iron armor, glistening clean under the downpour, reflected rays of gold divine light from Kylandra's psychic sun bursts.

The Bloodthirster rallied its daemonic kin; thousands of Bloodletters and Flesh Beasts charged forward to meet them as their daemonic leader towered over their hordes. The two armies clashed, and the resounding thunderclap of blade against blade echoed across the valley.

Kylandra despaired as she felt dozens of her kin die at once. The sounds battle were becoming nothing but muffled thumps in her ears as her vision slowly went away. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with rain water as the last of the Warlocks perished.

She had lived and worked with her seers for many years; some of which had been known to her from different Eldar paths. It wounded her deeply to see their souls stripped away entirely to give her the strength to finish what they all had started.

Her robes oscillated in the deafening rain storm, buffeted by both the coruscating psychic inferno building at her fingertips and the howling wind that coursed around her. Hundreds of years of her life had been spent preparing - contemplating for this very hour. The hour of her death; she had known it from the very beginning when she had taken up the Path of the Seer, a path she found herself lost upon long ago.

But now, she felt herself lost at this very moment. She alone would have to destroy this vile, unholy artifact. With her Warlocks nothing more than burnt out husks, she alone would have to face the darkness. Her vision faded to black as the psychic energy burned out her eyes. She cried out into the night, her voice lost under the sound of the crackling, scorching conflagration.

Her entire body was being converted into a weapon of mass destruction; with the combined psychic energy of her fallen Warlocks and her potent mind, she howled into the rain and forced her palms into the shimmering surface of the Warp spawned artifact, channeling the brilliant, scintillating might of the Eldar race.

The Farseer's body became enveloped by the immensely powerful psychic essences of her fallen Warlocks, bleaching her hair white, and burning away her robes and flesh in the inferno that consumed her.

Night turned to day, and Danarius could now see the immensity and strength of the Ruinous powers beyond them. A hundred thousand daemons, Legionnaires and heretics marched towards them from the other end of the valley.

His battle brothers died in droves - Space Marines, Eldar and Humans alike - they fell upon the blades of the Daemons to be skewered and butchered with their weapons flailing in their hands. Danarius howled at the Daemons as he struck them down one by one with the righteous might of his thunder hammer.

Assault Marines and Tactical squads clashed toe to toe with the daemonic beasts, crushing them under their warhammers, cutting them to pieces with their knives, or beating them to the ground with their combat shields. He joined them, fighting back to back, shoulder to shoulder as they held their ground against the tide of darkness. Together, they weathered the storm; Eldar Banshees and Scorpions wove to and fro between their foes, sending them back to the warp from whence they came by the edge of their mirror blades and the bite of their chainswords.

Dire Avengers and Dark Reapers cut down the Daemons in storm clouds of shuriken fire, cutting a swath through the Khornate legion. Those that escaped their wrath were butchered by las-fire or crushed by the astartes in glorious melee. But for every hundred Daemons that fell, two hundred took their place. It would not be long until they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

But the astartes held the line. The Emperor was with them, and He would watch over them until the end. Danarius, bearing debilitating wounds - stabbed and slashed by the daemon warriors - pressed on, advancing slowly through the hordes of Flesh Beasts and towards the Bloodthirster with his phalanx of Marines. The Eldar aspect warriors stayed close behind them, thrusting their weapons between the pauldrons and shields of their allies, preventing the monsters from breaking the through the line.

The phalanx pushed through the horde, and when it broke, the warriors scattered and engaged in battles of their own, each fighting a single enemy in brutal melee combat. Death was all around him, and Danarius saw that they the battle was slowly being lost.

Less than four dozen of his Marines remained; only through the undying tenacity that astartes were known for were they able to survive this long. Marines died for one another, Eldar skewered themselves upon the blades of their enemies, and Guardsmen sacrificed their lives to protect the latter and the former. Danarius watched in despair as the Assault Marine Sergeant that he had spoken to earlier was cleaved in half by a Bloodletter. He watched while a pack of Flesh Hounds proceeded to feed upon and defile his corpse.

Knowing that only with faith could they overcome the wicked, Danarius raised his voice to the heavens, singing verses from the Litany of Exaltation, smiting Bloodletters with every glorious word. He felt his spirit soar high above the battlefield, his swings growing stronger and his wounds becoming insignificant. Faith made him strong. One by one, his battle brothers joined him, their holy litanies ascending to the heavens. Soaring Assault Marines amplified their vox speakers to project their canticles across their battlefield for all to hear. Dozens of daemons fell to might of their renewed spirit, washing over the forces of Chaos with their divine cantillate.

The Guardsmen joined them, lifting their voices to the skies and filling the air with reverberating prayers and canticles that praised the God-Emperor's glorious name. With righteous zeal and the faith of a few hundred doomed men, they smote thousands of the unholy creatures, banishing them back to the Warp from whence they came.

"Before the swollen gaze of the Dark Eye, do I stand!" Danarius cried out to the heavens, rushing into a crowd of mutants and daemons. He swung his Thunder Hammer, mauling them in a single swing.

A handful of Marines followed him into the horde, power wapons cutting swaths through their ranks. "I hold for He who long ago sacrificed for man!" They chanted in unison, slaughtering the Khornate daemons and mutants alike.

The lone Guardsman that stood at Danarius's side before the charge waded through the carnage, las-rifles akimbo in each hand, stitching las-fire across the daemonic ranks. "I will yield no ground, I shall take no step back!" A Commisar and his squad marched beside him, wiping away the unholy blemishes that threatened to break their firing lines with flashes of las-fire.

"In His name and for His will!" Danarius raised his warhammer high and brought it down upon a Bloodletter, slamming it to the ashen dirt with a clap of thunder. He reared his head and declared to the heavens: "I will never surrender!"

As the last wave of daemons fell to their undying faith, the great winged daemon - the Khornate Bloodthirster took to the skies and soared above the ocean of blood. Flapping its gargantuan wings, it sailed effortlessly through the hurricane winds. It straightened its wings and swooped down to land fifty metres away from Danarius, shattering the earth in its descent. The ground trembled as it rose from the dark crater it had created with its cruel, black hooves.

Its searing red eyes burned through the twilight deluge. The Bloodthirster howled into the night, raising its massive Khornate daemon axe in battle stance. A hundred thousand Legionnaires, heretics, mutants and daemons marched towards it to provide support.

But the Bloodthirster massacred any foolish enough to threaten its duel against a hundred men. Danarius, devoid of any fear or doubt, saw its challenge, and without hesitation, raised his warhammer against the enemy.

"For the Emperor!"

A hundred roaring astartes, Humans and Eldar charged across the cratered battlefield to meet their only foe.

For the Emperor ...

Kylandra heard Danarius's battle cry faintly through her failing senses. She could no longer feel her robes against her flesh, or taste the blood in her mouth. She could not even see, for her eyes had been burned away. But she could feel the power of the artifact wane; its malignant whispers and revolting imagery began to fade to nothingness under the unimaginable psychic wrath of the Farseer and her fallen Warlocks.

Her own conscience teetered upon the edge of nullity - her entire being becoming consumed by her psychic exertions. Kylandra could feel reality slip away from her fingertips, but she fought on, struggling against the urge to simply let go and fade to black. The artifact must be destroyed, and she would not allow herself to leave this world so easily.

Her hands singed and charred the surface of the artifact; the dark power within began to squirm and squeal, begging her to release the machinations of its creator into the universe to wreck havoc among the stars.

I will never yield!

Danarius narrowly dodged the screaming battle axe as it cut a massive, molten canyon through the earth. He could not shake the feeling that the daemon was merely toying with them. It wanted them to suffer. High above in the sky, Swooping Hawks and Assault Marines circled its massive form, peppering its flesh with small arms fire and sticking explosives to its armor.

It roared as the melta bombs blew apart chunks of its gargantuan daemon armor. Enraged by the insects that buzzed around it, the Daemon reached into the sky to crush the mortal fools in its taloned fingers. Far from the carnage, Devastator Marines aimed their Plasma Cannons and fired, melting away the Daemon's neigh invincible armor; Dark Reapers joined the onslaught, their Reaper Cannons adding to the immense firepower that blasted away the abomination's plating.

The Bloodthirster laughed and slaughtered the remaining airborne warriors; an unfortunate Swooping Hawk found himself in its grasp as it tore off his wings, and then his limbs with glee. It took flight once more and flew against the Devastator Marines and their allies. It tore them apart, slashing, stomping and devouring them in a frenzy of blood. In minutes, more than half of the allied forces were gone. But with their terrible sacrifice, they had bought the survivors the chance to have at the monster's rippling, exposed flesh.

Danarius saw his chance, and ordered the remaining Tactical Squads to focus their bolter fire into the Daemon's scarlet hide. The Eldar and Guardsmen followed on cue, peppering the Daemon with a storm of shurkien and las-fire. Danarius stood alone against the beast and waved his warhammer in the air to draw its attention away from his allies.

Running towards it, Thunder Hammer in both hands, Danarius charged the beast. It laughed at his feeble attempt at combat and swatted him away like a insect with a wave of its open hand. The Ebon Purgators' Captain skidded through the mud and landed in a heap. With stars in his eyes, he pushed himself up to see the abomination cleave through his allies in a single swing; gore and mangled limbs filled the air. With every blood thirsty swing, the Greater Daemon butchered its attackers effortlessly, bathing itself in their blood.

It laughed, wading through the corpses of the fallen to slaughter any who dared raise a head to gaze upon it. Watching the last of his battle brothers fall, Danarius roared in defiance, rushing up to the Daemon as it tore an astartes in half with its gaping maw. His warhammer exploded against its exposed thigh, sending chunks of gore to splash upon his armor.

The Bloodthirster bellowed in pain, tossing away the remains of its victims. Danarius sprinted away from it, evading an downward slice that made the ground tremble and moan. It shrieked in animosity and advanced, following the foolish mortal that had dared wound it. Amidst the chaos, the Daemon flapped its wings, and the ocean of blood parted between it; the Bloodthirster strode through the crimson soil towards Danarius's hunched form.

But behind it, the lone Guardsman, las-rifles akimbo, fired a burst at the creature, beckoning it towards him, buying Danarius enough time to flank the abomination once more.

"Come on, you ugly son of a bitch!"

The monstrous beast cackled at the feeble Guardsman, turning its back to Danarius to butcher the man alive.

The Purgators' Captain, closed his eyes, and whispered a prayer thanking the man and the God-Emperor for granting his servants the courage to stand against this invincible foe. He admired the young man, las-rifles in each hand, spitting defiantly into the face of death incarnate - an avatar of the Blood God Khorne. Such courage, such bravery - it was something he would have expected from a brother astartes, not a Guardsman; the Imperium needed more heroes like him.

But despite his heroism, the Guardsmen gave away his life in an explosion of blood and shattered bone. Danarius roared with vengeful fury, and advanced. Wailing Banshee cries filled the air, and a squad of battered Eldar aspect warriors joined him in the final charge. Among them was their Exarch, the same one who had saved his life. With its back turned, Danarius and the lithe, alien Howling Banshees stormed the abomination, circling it like predatory beasts, cutting and slashing the monster with every step.

It struggled to parry their lightning fast blows, but the Banshees were too fast and agile, dodging its furious attacks with acrobatic flips and tricks. They spun under its guard and stabbed through the plates of its unholy daemon armor and sliced at its tendons and exposed flesh. Danarius landed heavy, overhead blows that threatened to send the abomination to its knees.

Suddenly, it rose to its full height, and outstretched its wings, launching itself into the air, streaming blood and gore as it ascended to the sky with Banshees in either fist. Danarius looked up to see a pair of mangled corpses and bits of gore rain down upon him.

Seconds after the pair of audible thumps and cracks, it fell back to the earth like a meteor, crashing into the valley in a plume of dust and debris. When the dust cleared, all but one of the Howling Banshees were dead; the others were fortunate enough to be simply crushed by its hooves. The Exarch alone stood against the Bloodthirster. She did not have a chance, for before she could even raise her Executioner blade, the daemon cleaved through her exarch armor. The savage blow picked her off her feet and she sailed in the air, screaming, before landing beside the lone Space Marine in a splash of crimson rain water.

The Captain clenched his jaw and knelt beside the dying Eldar. Twice over she had risked her life to aid him; he owed the Xeno this much. Danarius cupped her tiny hands in his gauntlets as she twitched spastically, bleeding from the deep gash across her chest. The Exarch struggled to formulate words in her mouth, but only gurgled helplessly, her life blood streaming out into the pouring rain. The Exarch gasped one last time, the Eldar's spirit stone flickering with a faint light; her body became still and her wrists slipped from his grasp.

The Space Marine's blood ran cold. Danarius bowed his head over the fallen aspect warrior and swore to avenge his fallen allies.

All around him were scattered the still bodies of Guardsmen and Astartes; noble men and women whose courage bought the Farseer time with their lives. They all could have just broke the line and fled, and yet, the Humans held the line and died fighting. Danarius slowly scanned the killing field, his eyes bearing witness to their terrible sacrifice. The Marine lifted his head and, with grief, he cried vengefully into the darkness.

"FOOLS ... YOU ARE BUT MERE PLAYTHINGS IN MY GRASP ... DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT ME?" it bellowed mockingly, its voice boiling Danarius's blood. It had slaughtered his brothers in arms, Space Marines he had known since he was a mere Sergeant. Warriors he called friends. The Daemon spread its wings and cackled into the twilit empyrean, and hundreds of thousands of its allies echoed behind it.

Danarius, rib cage utterly broken, gazed upwards to the monstrous, horned visage of the towering daemonic beast, his expression fading from anguish to sheer hatred. Blood streamed down his forehead from a wound above his brow. Danarius removed his helmet, thanking its machine spirit for protecting him; he did not need its protection anymore. He let the rain wash through his hair, cleaning his bloodied, grime caked face. He looked up into the sky and welcomed the rain's purifying touch. Far from his reach, his Thunder Hammer - his fate - awaited him.

"Kylandra ... you must hurry." he whispered to the wind. Danarius turned to spare a glance at the now empty trenches that surrounded her roiling psychic inferno. Simply grazing the fireball with his peripherals was far too intense for even the augmented eyes of an astartes. He found it impossible to stare directly into the heart of a brilliantly burning star.

I - I am ... it is ... nearly ... finished ... The Farseer's faint whisper echoed weakly in his mind. She was dying, and her psychic presence was hardly strong enough to project her thoughts into his.

Danarius bowed his head, knowing that these were his final moments. Slowly, a smile creased across his lips. His could feel the warm glow of the Emperor's presence near by. Soon, he too would join his battle brothers in the eternal vigil over mankind. Rising to his feet, he strode to his fallen Thunder Hammer and picked it from the sloshing mud. It felt impossibly heavy in his grip and his boots felt as though they were chained to the ground. Danarius unsheathed his power sword and held it in his left, and the warhammer in his right. He thumbed their power switches and both flickered brilliantly, exuding a bluish light that burned bright like braziers in the darkness around him.

"I will be a martyr." he declared in defiance, and advanced towards the Bloodthirster without looking back. His limp became a stride, and his stride became a charge; Danarius pounded through the heavy rain and tides of mud, Thunder Hammer and Power Sword crackling in his grip.

The world around him seemed to blur away - the Bloodthirster itself becoming the center of his microcosmic universe, his entire existence became dedicated to smiting the wretched monstrosity. It appeared at the far end of a dark tunnel, blocking his only path to the light - the light at the end of everything. Danarius climbed over the wreckage of a Leman-Russ Tank and launched himself into the air, hurtling towards the Bloodthirster in a single minded rage.

Time slowed and he saw the Daemon raise its battle axe to meet him in surprise. It had underestimated him - it would pay for its arrogance. The winds carried him on wings of divine fury; his Thunder Hammer and Power Sword swung downwards and smashed the top of the Daemon's skull in a thundering flash of energy, slashing through one of its bovine horns, goring its snout and gouging out one of its eyes. In his rage, Danarius roared and thrust the power sword through the Daemons skull, driving it deep with his flying momentum.

It stumbled backwards, baying in agony from the blow to its cranium. Blood gushed out from its nostrils and eyes; it clutched the wound upon its head, teetering on its hooves. Danarius landed in a low crouch, and raised his Thunder Hammer for another blow - but the warhammer never fell.

The Daemon howled, swinging its battle axe blindly through the air. Danarius's arms blew apart in a gory splash of meat and bone as the abomination swept its battle axe across the air in sightless retribution. Danarius's eyes widened and he cried out, his eyes watching his mangled limbs tumble through the air to splash uselessly in the mud, Thunder Hammer still clutched in its's death grip. Unimaginable suffering coursed through his body, and for once in his long life did he ever scream in utter, mind numbing, agonizing pain.

"Emperor -" he gasped, falling backwards into the mud as he stared at the stumps that used to be his forearms. Darkness closed in on vision. Stars flashed in his eyes; he began to lose feeling throughout his body as vitae spurted from the wounds in horrible splashes of his life blood. Danarius's vision darkened and melted with the twilight sky.

The astartes crashed into the mud, only to be engulfed by the swaying shadow of the Khornate Bloodthirster. It towered over his broken form and roared triumphantly, picking him up by his waist as if he were some kind of bloodied rag doll. It brought him close so that he could meet face to face with his destroyer. The Daemon took flight and hovered above the valley, lifting him to the sky like a bleeding trophy; the Chaos Legionnaires below bellowed a resounding, triumphant roar.

It dropped its jaw and howled into the astarte's contorted face, laughing the at corpses he had created from the destruction of Danarius's allies. Its fetid breath filled his nostrils with every painful breath. Though armless and defeated, Danarius smiled in grim satisfaction at the damage he had done to the creature. But it was not enough to save him now, as he felt the Bloodthirster's grip tighten around his body. Ceramite gave way and bones broke under its tightening fist; Danarius hacked up streams of blood as it squeezed out what little life he had inside him.

"AND YOU ... I SHALL SACRIFICE YOUR BLOOD TO KHORNE!"

... SACRIFICE ...

Kylandra saw fleeting memories from her past fly past her. It is said that those who live long enough to have the opportunity to wait for themselves to die watch their life flash before their very eyes. Kylandra had lost all feeling, all sensory abilities. She was not even sure if she was even alive.

All she could hear were muffled crashes and shouts that seemed to reverberate from every direction. She remembered the prophecies she had followed throughout the centuries. The destiny of Mankind was not only a twist of fate, but an important thread in a woven basket keeping the galaxy from falling into the sinister hands of Chaos.

She was dying for another species. Her entire existence was being burned away in the name of a race that abhorred and reviled her kind ... Not even her soul would remain, for her spirit stone could not save her; but she asked not for their remembrance. Nor for their friendship. She did so out of the kindness of her heart and for the safety of her own people and that of the entire galaxy.

If she still had eyes, she would have let her tears flow freely across her cheeks. Her sacrifice would only be remembered by the few that remained on her Craftworld. Her children, her son and her daughter, her friends and comrades - she would never see them again. Such a fate was something all Eldar feared, to have their souls extinguished entirely from the face of the universe. Kylandra's was not even fortunate enough to become interred within her Craftworld's infinity circuit: it will be as though she had never existed.

In her final moments, she realized that the sacrifice her people made today would resonate through generations of Eldar to come for far too many aspect warriors died upon this forsaken planet to ever defend the Craftworld in full strength ever again. Her Craftworld's entire Seer Council had lent Kylandra their lives to destroy this warp spawned device; she would not let their sacrifice be in vain. Kylandra smiled. Knowing that she had played her part as it was prophesied and that the skeins of fate would now shine dearly upon her people, not just her own Craftworld, but the Craftworlds of her entire species.

She will have bought them - and the Imperium of Man - time, time they will most certainly need when Chaos rises again ...

Kylandra felt the shadows close in on her; her grip on reality was beginning to fade, and yet her mission was not yet finished. Her time was now.

She screamed defiantly against the darkness around her and focused the last of her psychic energy into the unholy artifact, her immensely powerful, overwhelming will silencing its nefarious whispers. In a final blast of pure, psychic wrath, the trenches around her exploded and burned away in an expanding shockwave that obliterated everything in its path, and Kylandra knew no more.

Danarius felt the ground tremble and saw the night turn to day; rain water evaporated in mid air and the dark clouds that hung above the battlefield scattered into nothingness. The psychic supernova burned brilliantly through the entire valley with a radiance that could be seen from orbit, annihilating anything that it touched. Corpses, wrecked war machines, and the Forces of Chaos themselves were nothing but parchment to an open flame as the pulse radiated outwards through them.

The Bloodthirster, with Danarius's Power Sword still lodged in its skull, laughed in his face as it watched the astartes squirm like a dying insect in its death grip.

"WHERE IS THE LIGHT OF YOUR GOD-EMPEROR NOW?"

"Look beyond your snout ... DAEMON!" He spat, baring his teeth, and bashed the hilt of his power blade deep into the Daemon's skull with his own.

The towering monstrosity roared, tossing aside the dying marine into the blood filled banks. Its wings went limp and the abomination plummeted back to the earth with a piercing, horrific death rattle that echoed across the entire planet. The Daemon bayed like a dying animal and smashed head first into the cratered battlefield, just as Kylandra's psychic pulse consumed the entire valley in a glorious, roiling conflagration of psychic star burst.


End file.
